


Stipulations

by akamww3



Series: Encounters [10]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A swear word, F/M, Hopes Raised, Mollcroft, Post-TAB Setting, Relationship Possibilities, Setting Terms, Two Steps Forward One Step Back
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-06
Updated: 2016-03-06
Packaged: 2018-05-25 00:39:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6173140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akamww3/pseuds/akamww3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It's not over until ... well, even an optimist who'd finally given up hope can sometimes be surprised ...</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stipulations

**Author's Note:**

> Late Saturday afternoon, Molly Hooper had just finished her weekend chores and was winding the vacuum’s cord, starting to consider options for her evening meal, when she heard a knock on the flat’s door. She noticed Toby look her way and turned her head to meet the cat’s stare, then arched a brow humorously. “Are you expecting someone, Toby?” A few moments later, the knock was repeated a fraction louder. After hanging the end of the cord over the handle, Molly walked to the door, stooping to pick up Toby on the way, then reached for the knob with her free hand … and abruptly stepped backward, eyes wide, jaw dropped.

“Good evening, Molly,” Mycroft Holmes said lightly and gave her a brief smile before lifting his chin to acknowledge her feline companion. “Toby.” When Molly continued to stare at him, speechless, he added, “May I come in?”

Molly quickly looked at Toby, shocked by his sudden protesting meow, then realized she was gripping him too tightly. “Sorry, Toby,” she said before turning back to Mycroft. “Um, sorry,” she repeated, stepping away from the door. “Come in.” Rather than watch him remove his coat, she waved a hand toward the hooks, then hurried into the sitting room and perched her bottom on the back of the sofa.

As Mycroft walked in, Molly nuzzled Toby’s neck to give herself a moment and then lowered the cat to the floor and shoved her hands under her thighs to hide their shaking. “Did you just leave the office?” _Brilliant opening, Molly._ “Would you, um, like a cup of tea?” As soon as the last word left her mouth, she pushed away from the sofa and hurried to the kitchen to hide her blush at the inadvertent reminder of how it all began.

“Thank you, Molly,” Mycroft said as he followed her and took a seat at the table. Molly didn’t reply and kept her back to him while filling the kettle. She was obviously uncomfortable and he briefly considered offering to leave. “Have you been well?” He suppressed a grimace at the inanity of the question. Apparently the discomfort wasn’t Molly’s alone.

Molly turned around and folded her arms as she leaned against the worktop. “What are you doing here, Mycroft?” Their eyes met and held, and Molly felt a flutter in her stomach and a blush tingling in her cheeks when his gaze visibly warmed. “Why are you here?” She dropped her arms and straightened nervously when he rose to his feet. “Uh, um,” she mumbled when he moved toward her. “What are … Mycro-” The rest of his name was smothered by his lips. Although he’d braced his hands on the worktop’s edge on either side of her, in effect caging her in, he was touching her with nothing other than his mouth, which made it easy enough to jerk her head back. “You have no right –”

“I know,” he said, holding her gaze. “I know I don’t, Molly, but I made a mistake.”

Molly unconsciously licked her lips as she stared into his eyes. “A mistake?”

Mycroft sighed and lifted a hand to cup her face. “I listened to Sherlock.” When Molly’s eyes lowered to the knot of his tie, he dropped his hand and straightened. “No, that’s too easy. I suppose the truth is that I used Sherlock’s reaction and his rather precarious legal situation as an excuse to back away from you.” He paused, and Molly’s eyes lifted to his. “Could we have that tea?” She nodded. “May I help?” When she shook her head, he returned to his chair.

They remained silent while Molly finished preparing the tea and brought the tray to the table. After she’d filled their cups and taken a sip, she returned her cup to the saucer and raised her eyes to his. She noticed that he’d removed his tie, but didn’t comment on it. “What do you want from me, Mycroft?”

“I’ve … missed you, Molly.”

“Missed the sex, you mean.”

“No,” he said, then gave her a slow smile. “Well, yes - that too, of course, but I’ve missed _you.”_

Molly pressed her lips together until the urge to return his smile passed. “And what do you expect me to do about that?”

Mycroft’s expression fell into more neutral lines. “I don’t _expect_ anything from you, Molly.” They both focused on finishing their tea, then Molly lifted the teapot and raised her brows questioningly. “Would you rather I leave?” he asked.

“No,” she said. “Do you want more tea?” Mycroft slid his cup and saucer toward her silently. “What I _would_ like,” she said, sliding the filled cup back to him, “is some blunt talk. This thing between us – what _ever_ it was - started spontaneously. We both know it would _never_ have happened if I hadn’t gone mad for a moment and instigated it.” She stopped to take a sip of tea, then leaned back in her chair with a sigh. “I haven’t seen you for a month and all that time I had no reason to believe you might be reconsidering our last conversation … and now here you are without any warning.” She studied his expression for a few moments but was no closer to knowing what he was thinking. “Did you think we’d just continue –”

“I didn’t plan to come here today, Molly,” he said evenly. “I left a meeting and we passed Antonio’s and I thought of you and I –” His gaze wandered slowly over her face, then his eyes closed as he took a deep breath and slowly released it. “I no longer knew why I was staying away.”

“I don’t want to pick up where we left off, Mycroft. I’d want to -” Molly stopped, uncertainly.

When she didn’t continue, his eyes lifted to hers. “You’d want to …?”

Molly flushed at the thought of being the one to start the blunt talk, but reminded herself this man had seen _all_ of her. Every. Single. Inch. And she’d seen _him_. What were a few words measured against that? “I’d want to be able to think of it as a … as having an ongoing relationship.”

Mycroft’s brows twitched upward before he dropped his eyes, and the ensuing silence felt awkward to Molly. He finished his tea, slid the cup and saucer aside, then raised his gaze to hers again as he leaned back in his chair, mirroring her position. “What does that mean to you, Molly? It might be more effective if you tell me what you’d want to do differently … what to you would embody a relationship.”

Molly’s eyes widened when he didn’t reject the label outright, but she was more surprised by the words that came from her mouth. “But - if you’re willing to consider having more of a … _real_ relationship, wouldn’t you want to find someone more suitable?”

His fingers stilled where he’d been brushing them against the tabletop. “Suitable? In what way?”

“Someone more …” - _sophisticated, beautiful, wealthy, posh -_ “… like you?”

“Like me,” he echoed tonelessly. “You actually think I’d want to be with someone like me.” He shook his head slowly, then gave her a humorless smile. “I’m surprised _you_ would want to be with someone like me … cold, detached, forbidding, work-obsessed -”

“Super-intelligent, powerful, handsome, elegant, kinder than you think you are, and, um, _hot._ Hot and sexy and, um, generous with it. And _efficient_ – you’re, um, extremely efficient at getting the, um, job done ...” Molly trailed off, flushing again when Mycroft pushed his chair back and came around the table toward her. “What are you –” She broke off when he sat beside her, rested his arm on the table and covered her hand with his.

“Smart, capable, lovely, warm-hearted, sexy and responsive,” he said as he turned her hand over and threaded his fingers between hers. “You inspire that ‘efficiency’.” Molly swiveled her head to look at him, but his eyes were lowered to their hands. “So tell me - what is it you’d want to do differently?” Her gaze dropped to watch as his thumb started smoothing the back of her hand.

“I suppose,” she began then hesitated, and his thumb paused as well. “I suppose I’d like to stop feeling that I took advantage of you at a low point – that I used a vulnerable moment against you.”

“Vulnerable,” he scoffed, then lifted their clasped hands and kissed the back of her first two fingers. “Not vulnerable – just unexpectedly _open_ to you. Everything that happened here was by choice on both sides.” He gave her a chiding glance. “We’re getting side-tracked. Answer the question.”

“All right,” she said and lifted her chin. “When you weren’t tied up with work and our schedules permitted, I’d like to spend more time with you. I’d like to feel welcome to call you at other times with the understanding that I wouldn’t do it too often and that you either wouldn't answer or would tell me immediately if it was a bad time. I’d like to be able to tell my friends – well, just the few friends I ever share confidences with – that I was involved with someone. I wouldn’t be indiscreet and share personal details, Mycroft, but I wouldn’t enjoy keeping the relationship a complete secret either. I’d like to think we could occasionally go out somewhere together.” Molly lifted her shoulders and gave him a wry smile. “Is that enough _‘I-I-I’_ for now? What about you?”

He responded to the last bit first, with a sigh. “I don’t … _date,_ Molly.”

“You don’t ever go to the symphony or ballet or plays or other such entertainments?”

“Very rarely, my dear.”

“Well, if such a rare occasion came up when you _did_ want to go, would you be attending by yourself?”

Mycroft’s lips pursed as he studied her expression. “Not any more, apparently.”

Molly’s heart rate sped up at that, but she assumed he didn’t mean her to take the comment too literally. “Do you ever just go for a walk or a run or a swim or something like that? You must do some sort of exercise to be in such good shape.”

“Being with you was the most ‘exercise’ of any regularity I’d had in a long time.”

Molly snorted, but knew she was blushing. “I don’t believe that.”

“Nevertheless,” he said with a quirk of his lips, before he continued more thoughtfully. “I have a treadmill and a few other pieces of equipment that I use, but unfortunately not on a routine basis. I sometimes swim when time permits and I think about it.”

“Oh, I _love_ swimming! Where do you go to swim?”

“I have … access to a pool,” he said. “Perhaps you’ll join me there one day soon.”

“Perhaps,” she said lightly, quickly reminding herself that appearing before him in a swimsuit should be much less intimidating than being naked. “So … what would _you_ want to do differently?”

“I had no complaints before, Molly,” he said, then smiled reassuringly, “but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to consider making a few changes.” Mycroft let go of her hand to reposition his chair and then sat facing her head on, his expression set in more sober lines, and Molly shifted until she could look at him without having to turn her head. “However, those changes would come with certain restrictions.”

“Go on,” she said easily.

His brows twitched at her calm reaction. “While you wouldn’t have to keep our relationship a secret from your closest associates, you’d have to be discreet – especially about anything you might overhear or see while with me, whether obviously work-related or not. The less you use or mention my name in public, the better. If we’re out somewhere together, the more casual or distant our connection appears, the better. Being taken for nothing more than friendly acquaintances would be good. No onlooker should be given any obvious cause to think you’re someone who’s important to me, so no public displays.” _Am I important?_ Molly bit her lip to hold in the words when Mycroft paused before going on. “The need to keep a low profile isn’t uncommon for those who work in official circles, my dear.”

“That level of lying low is common for someone who occupies ‘a minor position in the British Government’?” Molly questioned drily, then snorted when he stood abruptly. “Mycroft … your brother has told me things over the years, you know, so I’ve had to assume you’re with the British Secret Service - when you’re not freelancing for the CIA, of course. According to Sherlock, you’re the most dangerous man I’ve ever met.” Her expression sobered as she stared at Mycroft. “I don’t entirely disbelieve him,” she said, “but _I’m_ not scared of you.”

“That’s good,” he said, “but you shouldn’t listen to my brother. Sherlock does love to be dramatic.”

“So you don’t work for –”

“I can’t talk about my work, Molly,” he said evenly, holding her gaze as he slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “If that’s going to be an issue -”

“It’s not,” she insisted, interrupting him in return.

His expression hardened. “That’s not to say there is _no_ shred of truth to Sherlock’s assertions. There is significant risk that comes with associating with me – both in safety concerns for you and the possibility of someone using the threat of harming you against me.” Mycroft moved closer and held a hand out, and Molly let him take hers. “I can and _will_ take steps to lessen any risk, Molly, but I can’t remove it entirely.”

“I understand, Mycroft, and I still want to be with you,” she said. “I have no family, no one who depends on me other than Toby. I can accept the risk.”

“The kind of relationship you want ups the stakes, Molly. I came here tonight with the assumption that if we continued to see each other, it would be much as before. Are you sure you don’t need to consider the matter more carefully?”

“I’m sure,” she said, deliberately holding his gaze so he could see her resolve.

“All right.” Mycroft released her hand and pulled out his pocket watch. “I have to go for now,” he said, thumbing the cover closed and tucking the watch into place, “but I’ll get back with you in a few days.” Within five minutes, he was gone, and Molly was left leaning against the door, still flushed from having been thoroughly kissed and somewhat dazed by how quickly her personal prospects had changed.

Once in the car, Mycroft reached for his mobile and leaned closer to the door, glancing up at Molly’s window and speaking quietly as they pulled away from the curb. “I want an immediate upgrade to Miss Hooper’s surveillance status.” He listened for a moment, then, “Grade three, active.”

_~Wednesday Afternoon~_

Molly tensed at the sound of multiple pairs of footsteps nearing the morgue doors at a quick pace and looked up from the chart she’d been studying. Her expression relaxed into a smile when John Watson walked in, followed by Sherlock - a smile that widened unconsciously when Mycroft joined them. Her gaze lingered on him for a few moments before shifting to the others. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. What can I do for you?”

When the three of them left twenty minutes later, Molly latched the refrigerated drawer, tossed her gloves into a bin, and headed for her office. She smiled to herself as she mentally reviewed what must be considered a successful joint visit by the brothers since Sherlock had behaved himself on the whole. Three snorts, two scowls and a single curl of his upper lip – the last occurring when Mycroft and Molly had been careless enough for Sherlock to catch them looking at each other – hardly counted since they were so common as to be easily ignored by all … particularly by John, who’d remained oblivious to any undercurrents between the other three. Sherlock had obviously kept their secret or John would certainly have been giving Mycroft and Molly side glances at the very least. Molly pushed her office door open and froze on the threshold for a moment before quickly closing the door behind her. “What are you doing here? I thought you left.”

Mycroft was leaning against her desk, hips perched on its edge, and simply lifted a brow as she came to stand in front of him. “I gave them the slip,” he said lightly, although they both were aware that Sherlock must have known – and ignored - what Mycroft was doing.

Molly moved closer, then closer still when Mycroft spread his feet, and that was all it took for her to drop any plan to take things more slowly this time. Everything they’d done before had been by mutual choice, he’d said, and so it was now. She pressed herself flush against him and slid her hands around his waist, his arms encircled her back, and Mycroft slowly lowered his head to kiss her. Molly slipped one hand higher on his back and pressed her mouth more firmly to his, then eased off to run her tongue along the seam of his lips before slipping between them. She moaned when he sucked her tongue deeper and rubbed his along its length.

After a few moments, Mycroft pulled back and raised a hand to smooth some wisps of hair toward Molly’s ponytail clip. “This was reason enough to stay behind,” he said, “but I actually did have another purpose.” Molly’s brows lifted curiously. “You never showed me _Rear Window_ or _Vertigo_. Are you up for another movie night?”

“Of course,” she said with a delighted smile. “Friday night? Saturday?”

“Most likely Saturday,” he said, “but I’ll call you if Friday’s possible.” His lips twisted and one brow arched. “As you know, a lot can change for me in a couple of days and I may have to work late both nights. If so, we’ll get together the first evening we’re free.” His other brow rose. “Perhaps this time you should come to my home,” he suggested, then smiled as he continued, “But I warn you – it’s not as cozy as yours.” Molly looked away without responding so didn’t see his puzzled expression. “What is it, Molly … I thought you’d be pleased.”

Her gaze hurriedly shifted back to his. “I _am_ – thank you, Mycroft,” she said, then briefly brushed her lips over his. “But would it be all right to stick with _my_ kind of cozy for this weekend and see how things go from there?”

A crease appeared between Mycroft’s brows, but smoothed after a few moments. “If that’s what you want,” he replied agreeably, then shifted to straighten up. “Well … I better let you get back to work.” He bent to kiss her cheek, then turned aside to grab his umbrella from where he’d hung it on a chair. “I’ll call you later in the week to confirm our plans.” When Molly started to follow him into the corridor, he held up a hand. “You’re busy. You don’t need to show me out.”

Molly watched from her door as Mycroft walked away from her down the long hallway and then waved when he glanced back before turning the corner. _Shit._

Over the next two days, Mycroft’s reaction to Molly’s brushing aside the invitation to his home worsened in her imagination from what had in reality been a brief frown. She didn’t know why she’d panicked at the thought of – finally – seeing his home, but she had, and she still felt that way. She eventually concluded it was from fear that observing how Mycroft lived would change things. It was one thing to speculate about the wide gulf between their circumstances, but would be another thing entirely to have the situation confirmed.

**Author's Note:**

> The next installment will be posted more quickly than usual - I hope within a couple of days. I don't know about you, but I'm getting impatient for more sexy times!! ;)
> 
> I obviously don't own our favorite characters and all rights, etc., belong to Sherlock's creators/writers ... particularly rights to certain well-loved lines from ASiP that I've borrowed for my own purposes here. 
> 
> _Edited 7 April 2016 to add:_ It's come to my attention that the "structure" of this series could be confusing. If I'd known Mycroft's and Molly's initial encounter was eventually going to develop into a relationship, I would have started this as a multi-chaptered story instead of a series. Please note that the storyline of this Encounters series is chronological, so reading earlier parts will show how they got to where they are now. :)
> 
> For anyone who might be interested, I'm on Tumblr and devote 99.99% of my time and effort there to Mycroft/Mark love. [WaitingForTheThaw](http://waitingforthethaw.tumblr.com/)


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